Blane felt a deep sense of relief and awe.
“Shame and self-loathing keep people from loving you,” an elderly woman said.
Blane looked up to see that the grandmother was standing next to him in the meadow.
“No creature can get past it,” the grandmother said. “It may feel like it keeps you safe, but the only true thing that keeps you safe is love. This creates the strong bonds between you and others.”
“It does?” Blane asked.
“The truth is that the only way was to stay safe is to forge deep bonds of love with other human beings. No one can help to keep you safe if you insist on living within your ownself-loathing.”
Blane was so stunned by her words that he gawked at the woman.
“What do I do?” Blane asked.
“Sleep now,” the grandmother said.
As if by magic, Blane was sitting on the deck outside the medical offices. Jacob was lying on a cot before him, and the shamans were working. He could tell by the light that it was four or five in the morning.
“You’ll know what to do when the time is right,” the grandmother said. “It will be your turn to use your love to defend him.”
“My turn?” Blane asked. “What do I need to do?”
“You’ll know,” the grandmother said with a nod. She disappeared for a moment and returned with a cup. He gave her a questioning look, and she smiled.
“Water,” the grandmother said. “Drink deep.”
Blane was suddenly very thirsty. He drank the water and took the next cup of water without questioning. The grandmother smiled at him.
“Sleep,” the grandmother said. “It’s what you need and what he needs. You’ll be called to action soon enough.”
Blane was asleep before she finished her sentence.
~~~~~~~~
Jacob awoke with a start.
“Blane?” he asked out loud.
He had a terrible feeling in his gut. It was exactly how he’d felt when he’d seen Blane in the bushes at Cheesman or the day he’d turned down Blane’s street and saw Blane standing on the grass with his possessions around him.
“Blane?” Jacob’s voice rose with anxiety.
The cabin was dark, darker than he’d ever seen it. The glow from the coals of the fire was the only light.
“Sarah?” Jacob asked.
He patted the bed for the dog. Somehow, he had lost her. He felt the loss like a dagger through his heart. He stumbled out of bed and went to the bathroom. Pulling on his jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, he went to the fire. It took a few moments, but he was able to revive the fire. He filled the kettle and settled into the rocking chair.
His mind kept going back to Blane.
Rather than fight it, Jacob allowed himself to remember. A couple of years ago, just after he had had Mack, Blane had asked Jacob how he’d happened to come to Cheesman Park that day when they were eight years old. Not wanting to lie — and yet, not sure of the truth — Jacob had said simply that Blane was a lucky son-of-a-bitch. Blane had laughed. To Jacob’s relief, Blane had let it go.
Jacob had no idea why he’d gone to Cheesman Park that day. When he’d left his parents’ tiny Mayfair bungalow, he’d planned to take the bus to the scooter shop. He had his helmet with him. He was wearing his thickest sweater and his warmest rain jacket. He was going to buy the red scooter and ride the scooter home. He’d even called the day before to make sure the scooter was ready to go.
His dad had helped Jacob figure out which bus to take to the scooter shop on Lincoln Street and Seventh Avenue. He’d have to walk over to Ninth Avenue, but he could take the Ten all the way to Lincoln Street. He’d have to walk only a few blocks to the scooter store. As his father had said, “Those blocks would be the last he’d ever had to walk.” Confident and excited, Jacob had been in such a rush that he’d forgotten his lunch. Waiting at the bus, he wondered if he should go back for his lunch. Of course, in less than an hour, he would be the proud owner of a red scooter! He could easily ride his new red scooter home for his lunch. The bus pulled up and Jacob got on. He showed the bus driver his free bus pass and sat in the back.
“This is the last bus ride I’ll ever take,” Jacob thought with a smile. Sitting next to the window, he paid no attention to the people who got on and off the bus around him. He watched the city transition from old military housing to even older historic homes. Cheesman Park was experiencing a revival, and most of the big houses had construction dumpsters in front of them. The bus pulled to a stop at the park and Jacob got off.
Just like that.
He hadn’t thought about it or planned it or felt called to do it. He’d had this funny feeling in his stomach all day. If he’d thought anything, he’d thought that a walk in the park would ease his stomach. But that was dumb — he had three dogs he’d taken for a walk just a few hours ago and that hadn’t helped his stomach. Of course, the moment he’d stepped off the bus, he realized he’d done the wrong thing.
Feeling stupid, Jacob had checked the bus schedules his father had made him take with him. The Colfax bus was leaving in ten minutes. He started across Cheesman Park toward Franklin Street. He’d catch the bus on Colfax and still get the scooter and have time to ride home for his lunch. But only if he walked fast. He was almost to Franklin Street when he stopped short.
Something was very, very wrong.
Jacob checked himself to make sure that he wasn’t bleeding. Seeing that he wasn’t bleeding, Jacob started looking around for what might be wrong. He followed the blood trail to the boy in the bushes.
“Why did you help me?” Blane had asked Jacob that question since they were kids.
The truth was that Jacob had no idea why he’d helped Blane.
One thing was sure, he was never sorry that he had. He’d gotten Blane to Denver Health, and Blane had been rushed into emergency surgery. One of the ER nurses had given Blane’s clothing to Jacob. Seeing that Blane’s clothing was filthy, Jacob had found a laundromat and washed Blane’s clothing. When Blane told the story, he always made a big deal of Jacob washing his clothes, but it was really no big deal. Jacob spent most Sunday mornings at the Laundromat washing his family’s laundry. Jacob had given the clothes back to the hospital for Blane and left for home.
When all was said and done, he had just enough money to take the Colfax bus back to his parents’ house in the Mayfair.
Shaking his head at the memory, Jacob got up to make his tea. He had no idea why he was remembering this, of all things, here, in the dark of his protected home.
Jacob had always felt connected to Blane. Like Jacob knew exactly where to find Blane when everyone was calling Jacob a “fag.”
He’d also known when Enrique had betrayed Blane for the final time. Jacob wasn’t sure how he knew. He just felt this diarrhea feeling in this stomach and knew Blane was in trouble. He’d told himself that he would just drive by Blane’s house to make sure everything was all right. Once there, he saw the mess and Blane standing on the lawn staring at the house. The rest was pretty self-explanatory.
When it came to Blane, he had no idea why he felt so connected to the man. He just knew that he’d never once been sorry that he’d helped Blane.
Never.
Not once.
Not that Blane had ever believed him.
Blane’s self-loathing always took Jacob’s breath away. They would be hanging out, and wham! Blane was caught in his shame and self-loathing. Jacob never felt more helpless than when that happened.
He wanted to shake Blane. He had shaken Blane. He’d tried yelling at him, hugging him, offering solutions, refuting Blane’s self-loathing point-by-point. He’d tried everything he could think of, and nothing had ever cracked the shell of hatred Blane felt around himself.
Blane was amazing at everything he tried. He’d been the youngest chef in Denver. He was an amazing assistant to Jacob. There was no way Jacob would have been able to sell the company to the employees without Blane’s ideas and assistance. Blane w
as even a fantastic acupuncturist. Blane had already been flown around the world to treat famous ballerinas and injured military people.
None of this mattered. Blane hated himself.
Taking his tea to a spot by the fire, Jacob sat down cross-legged on a hand-woven rug and tried to send Blane love. He inhaled air and exhaled love toward Blane. In his mind’s eye, Jacob saw the love deflected off Blane’s shell of self-loathing. Jacob sighed. He wasn’t sure why he’d bothered. He’d seen Mack and even their baby, Wyn, try to love Blane. Blane could see the love but never let it inside himself. Jacob had seen Mack cry to his mother over it more than once.
Jacob snorted. Only Blane could be married to the Goddess of Love and still be surrounded by a shell of self-loathing. Shaking his head, Jacob took off his clothing and went back to bed.
He lay in bed for a long while before sleep caught him. When he was finally able to sleep, he was almost immediately caught in a complicated and dangerous dream. Jacob was wearing the armor he’d been given by Fin. He was carrying a sharp broadsword and a heavy shield. People were dying around him. At his right side was a magnificent mountain lion. On his shoulder sat the most beautiful Colorado Mountain Rabbit he’d ever seen. Above his head flew a powerful crow the color of the deepest black.
Jacob continued forward until he reached the creature they were fighting. The evil thing had destroyed the stronger, better men, who lay dead on the field. He squinted to see this force clearly.
It was dark — either grey or black, depending on how you looked at it. A vicious wind created a vortex around the force. The wind seemed to lift the men and women in front of it. The wind spun the people around and around until it tossed them out. Once released from the depths of darkness, the men, women, and children around him impaled themselves on their own swords.
The force didn’t bother to kill them outright. It didn’t have to. A spin around this deceptive darkness was enough to cause these people to destroy themselves. Jacob squinted at the vortex. Shaking his head, he was about to walk away when the rabbit bit him on the shoulder.
“Ow!” Jacob said.
He looked at the rabbit, and it was pointing. He looked up to see that Blane was spinning around the thing.
Chapter Four Hundred and Nine
Without thought or a plan, Jacob ran straight at the vortex of shame. He waited and watched until he saw Blane rotate past him. He jumped up and reached to catch Blane’s hand. His fingertips touched the palm of Blane’s hand but Jacob was unable to hold onto Blane.
Jacob dropped to the earth. He bent over to try to catch his breath. Saving Blane would not be easy this time. He was going to have to give it his all to try to rescue Blane from the vortex of shame. Jacob collected himself.
When Blane appeared again, Jacob jumped with all of his might. Using his psychokinetic skill, Jacob forced Blane’s hand into his own. Their hands caught. Jacob tugged on Blane’s hand with all of his might, but he did not budge. Their hands disconnected with a pop.
Jacob fell to the ground and landed on his rear and his back. The ground was smooth from many millennia of the vortex of shame picking up rocks and debris only to toss them around the world. Jacob groaned with pain. He rolled onto his side, from where he looked at the odd collection of animals. The rabbit was now sitting on the mountain lion’s shoulders. The mountain lion and rabbit looked as worried as Jacob felt. The crow was distracted by the shiny things floating around the shame vortex. A beaver had joined the crowd. Somehow, the beaver looked just like his father, Sam Lipson.
“How’m I going to get him out of there?” Jacob said out loud, not expecting a response.
“You need the proper leverage,” the beaver said, repeating something Jacob’s father had said at least a thousand times to Jacob.
“Yeah?” Jacob asked in an irritated voice. “And what would that be? His own children can get him out of this thing! For God’s sake, he’s married to the Goddess of Love, and even that doesn’t help!”
“Why is it your job?” the crow cawed something Valerie had said over and over again. “Big ego. Big ego. Big ego.”
The mountain lion lunged at the crow. Laughing, the crow easily flew up to avoid the mountain lion.
“I know it’s my job,” Jacob said. “Blane . . . we’re like two sides to one coin. One soul in two bodies.”
“Big ego. Big ego. Big ego,” the crow’s laughing voice echoed around Jacob. “Big ego. Big ego. Big ego.”
“If you’re one soul in two bodies, then what do you have to change in yourself to free Blane?” the beaver asked another typically Big Sam Lipson question.
As if he were twelve years old, Jacob groaned.
“Big ego. Big ego. Big ego,” the crow’s laughing voice echoed around Jacob. “Big ego. Big ego. Big ego.”
Jacob lay back. For the first time, he noticed the sky.
“Where is this place?” Jacob asked, rolling up onto one elbow to ask the animals.
None of the animals in front of him spoke. Jacob scowled. He didn’t like this situation or this place. There was something familiar about the sky. He felt a chill down his back. Rather than think, Jacob jumped up. Giving it his all, he jumped up to where Blane was rotating and kept himself afloat with his psychokinesis. When Blane rotated in front of him, Jacob reached into the shame vortex and grabbed him by the elbows.
“Jake!” Blane said.
Jacob pulled with all of his might. Blane was stuck in the dark mass of the vortex of shame. Unable to free him, Jacob spun around the vortex.
“I won’t let go!” Jacob said.
“Jake!” Blane said. “I can’t . . .”
Just then, there was a rumble of lightning through the vortex. The lightning hit Jacob’s hands and forced him to let go. They had been flying so fast around the vortex of shame that Jacob was flung across the world at the speed of light.
He landed head first in the Sea of Amber.
~~~~~~~~~
Blane woke up.
Or at least he thought he was awake.
He woke up somewhere, some place. He wasn’t exactly sure where. He got to his feet to look around.
He was standing on the top of a kind of mountain made of khaki-colored sand. He took a step only to find that he sunk into the ground. He was pretty sure that any real movement would send this mountain tumbling down. From where he stood, there was a series of these mountains of sand giving way to sand dunes. The place reminded him of the Great Sand Dunes National Monument in central Colorado or the breathtaking White Sands National Monument. Over the years, he, Jake, and Mike had camped at both locations. Blane nodded.
He knew how to get down from this type of unstable mountain made of sand. He wasn’t sure why he would. He turned in place to look out at the other direction.
Below him, on the other side, was a vast sea. The water had a strange reflective quality that made Blane look up at the sky. The sky was hazy with a thin layer of clouds. Even though the sun wasn’t up yet, the cloud layer was thick enough to cover the stars. And yet, there was a weird radiance to the sky. It wasn’t dark by any means. If anything, he’d have to say that the sky was the deep orange of an overripe pumpkin or that horrible allspice-heavy pumpkin spice mix.
And there he was — staring at the burnt-orange sky, looking at the burnt-orange water — waiting for the sun to come up or possibly go down. He stood there for a while before looking up at the sky again. If Mike were there, he’d have noticed that there wasn’t a bird in the sky. Blane scowled. There wasn’t a tree or scrub or blade of grass. In fact, this was the most desolate place, Blane had ever seen and Celia had given him a lifetime membership to the National Geographic Society when he’d first moved in with her.
Where was he?
His heart pounded with panic.
Why was he here? What had that witch put into the water she’d given him?
The instant his panic rose to a fevered pitch. A single thought pierced his brain:
“Heroin will fix this.”
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“Ahhh!” Blane screamed in frustration at the addictive voice that never gave him even a moment’s peace. He balled up his hands and beat on his thighs. “Ahhh!”
“I need heroin,” pressed the voice in his head.
“I have three children, whom I love,” Blane screamed at no one. “I have a wife who I adore with all of my heart. I make an enormous difference in the lives of the people I work with. I have a gorgeous house that’s being remodeled. I have everything I want. I don’t need heroin. I don’t need heroin.”
He was panting with effort now.
“Heroin makes everything better,” the voice in his head said.
“I don’t need heroin!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. Clutching his head, he fell to his knees. “I don’t need heroin!”
The sound of his voice echoed around this weird land. The sand rattled against the mountains. The surface of the sea below seemed to ripple. He’d caused the entire place to vibrate.
Blane realized that there was no movement in this place.
No wind. No breeze. Nothing moved.
He became very still.
Where was he?
He saw something in the sea below. He squinted. Was that a body in the sea? He couldn’t be sure. It sure looked like a body. Without thinking, he took a step and fell into the deep sand. Moving very slowly, he managed to get back to the stable place he’d awakened on.
“That’s got to be an optical illusion,” he told himself. “After all, this has to be some kind of weirdo dream.”
He was clearly hallucinating. This orange place had infused him with some kind of orange heroin that had clearly taken over his senses. He imagined his conversation with Heather. Smiling, he saw himself telling Heather that he was seeing things. She would laugh and ask him what was different. Smiling at his logic, he moved to sit down.
Olney Springs Page 24
